


between awakenings

by kamote



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Angst, F/F, Slow Burn, alternate universe - figure skating, and dia is just trying her best, i'll add tags as i remember them? who knows, maki learns to be a good senpai, my first real multichap fic in years and it's a rarepair in a niche au im going to Perish, riko is sad, same sex pair skating is normal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamote/pseuds/kamote
Summary: Dia's figure skating career is off if she can't make it big before the end of this competitive season, but as if heavensent, her idol in skating, Ayase Eli herself, agrees to coach her personally in Tokyo to prepare for the regional block championships just around the corner.When Dia gets there, though, Eli is gone on a personal emergency. To keep Dia's time and effort from going down the drain, Eli's fellow skater friend Maki, brilliant in her own right, strikes a deal:shewill coach her in Eli's stead if Dia agrees to take her place in a pair exhibition with a skater called Riko and put on a good show. Dia bites — these are her idols after all.ButRikoturns out to be the one she really needs, and despite first impressions, much more than she bargained for.





	between awakenings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this idea is so Old but i havent stopped loving it since i met it and now im writing it?? anyway  
> Disclaimer: I only know stuff about skating from internet research and videos so any inconsistencies with real life is like well that's fiction i guess and Mari's here so  
> one skating thing i know that isnt canon in real life is same-sex pair skating being Real. it's real here
> 
> thank you for picking this story up

Dia, by now, with six regional and national competitions under her belt (three awards of one bronze, one silver, one proud gold) had visited these treacherous urban jungles a good handful of times — enough to rid the place of its fangs, but still short of giving her the comfort of familiarity. The streets are still complex, winding, and rife with odd rules, and the buildings are just too many with too many things in them. The map of her phone is nearly unreadable, as well. She doesn’t have an ounce of control here.

Except over herself. Kurosawa Dia knows she is a woman of dignity, strength and pride. Being — no, not “lost”, that’s too helpless a word — _displaced_ in the streets of Akihabara would not faze even her air. She would remember herself and walk in the self-assured way she deserves as —

A wretched grin begins to creep onto her face —

as —

she clears her throat —

as… an honored student…! Of Ayase Eli!

The esteemed and reputable Ayase Eli, who sought Dia personally! Though at that very moment she does walk to the rink Ayase Eli asked of her, the fact feels unreal, as if she had dreamt it. Dreamt over several days of discussion and planning, with impeccably lifelike vividness.

 _Get a grip,_ she tells herself chidingly, _you haven’t met her yet. People can see you. Walk._

Quickly, she composes herself, quashes the compulsion to glance around for any actual witnesses, and continues on her way.

The rink, yes, Otonoki Ice Stadium. A short walk across the main campus of Otonokizaka High School, one of the few schools in Japan offering programs for winter sports like hockey and figure skating. Students, alumnae, and anyone with the time and money were free to use it as Otonoki’s academic schedules permitted.

Ayase is one such alumna. The stadium is practically her home rink, and now she uses her privileges for Dia to share it with her.

Of course, Dia has to find it first. It takes twenty (stressful) minutes and possibly a few miracles, But eventually Dia manages to make it back to the route Ayase herself supplied her with. She sees the sign, lets her nerves settle, takes in a few details of the simple external architecture, and walks inside.

As she had expected, there aren’t many people about, which she figures is par for any day during the high school summer vacation. Past the small and humble lobby, there is a door to the rink, and next to it, the door to the locker room, where small shelves for bags and footwear sit by the stalls, and wooden benches are lined up in the middle.

A window glimpsing into the main rink area is set into the lobby’s back wall. Dia looks through it, finding just one person on the rink, and a few of who seem to be staff members walking outside it. The latter disappear into another door almost as soon as Dia notices them, leaving the one skater by herself on the ice.

Finding no heads of blonde hair either way, Dia walks into the locker room and places her bag, containing her skating equipment, onto one of the shelves, before walking to the main rink area, where just the one skater remains. She looks teenage going by her build, and she’s doing idle warmups on the ice while Dia looks around to figure out her next course of action.

She can’t really decide on where to go, though, so she instead glances at her watch to discover that her coach is, in fact, five minutes late. Inexcusable in her book, but absolutely understandable for someone as busy as Ayase Eli. She would give her the benefit of the doubt and continue to wait.

Though she thought to fill her time by idly watching the girl skate, that same girl had already decided to skate over to her. The look she gives Dia is a beckoning one, and they meet at the closest rink entrance. Now that Dia can get a closer look at her, the girl is rather pretty, in a modest, dainty way. Kind golden eyes, long, burgundy hair, a way of moving that was humble but nonetheless elegant. The way she skated, too, it was clear ice was her element. Excellent features for a skater to have.

“Can I help you?” says the girl. Her voice is soft, and her tone, affably neutral.

“Yes,” Dia says. “My name is Kurosawa Dia. I’m a figure skater from Uchiura and I came here for a personal training arrangement with Ayase Eli.”

The girl’s eyes light up. “Oh, Kurosawa-san! I thought you looked familiar.”

Dia’s eyebrow quirks at that (as do the corners of her lips, but she reins that impulse in). “You know me? Have we met?”

“No, no we haven’t, but I’ve seen you in competitions, and Eli-senpai’s spoken of you a lot lately. I’m Sakurauchi Riko, by the way. Another skater.” Sakurauchi bows her greeting, which Dia courteously returns.

“Nice to meet you, Sakurauchi-san.” A familiar name, somehow, but any images that come with it are too foggy for Dia to be sure. And besides… “So, Ayase-san’s been talking about me?”

“Enough for me to notice,” Sakurauchi says with a smile and a shrug. “I know, at least, that she likes your skating and had plans to coach you. Speaking of which… she said that was today?”

“Yes, today.” Dia notices the faint shadow of confusion passing over Sakurauchi’s face. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Well, yes,” Sakurauchi says. “Eli-senpai had to leave for Russia last night. I didn’t ask what the emergency was, but it doesn’t seem as though she’ll be able to make it back within the week at least.”

Oh. This is unexpected and totally unplanned for. “I never received a message about this…” Had Ayase really been in such a hurry that she couldn’t leave Dia a note? Disappointment and frustration begin to well up in Dia’s chest, what with how critical her time is, but she tries to remain collected.

“It sounded urgent,” Sakurauchi says. “I guess she was caught off-guard.”

Dia nods. “Very unfortunate, but I understand, and will not pry any deeper regarding her situation.” She pauses, faces the side, and takes on a pose of deep thought, focusing all her energy away from the despondency she feels. “What should I do now that I’m here, though? Tokyo is quite a place of opportunity, and my apartment is already well-arranged for my month’s stay—”

She freezes. Something occurs to her, and she looks Sakurauchi in the eye. “Did you just call her ‘ _Eli_ -senpai’? Twice?”

"O-Oh!" The girl's hand shoots to her mouth, as if it was a terrible mistake. "Had I? You- You must have misheard or something..."

But Dia’s mind, grateful for the distraction and simply operating on instinct in equal parts, is already racing a hundred miles an hour, running through the probability. It mustn’t have been too far-fetched for this girl to know Ayase Eli. Yes, this girl must have been from the same area. Did she ever say she was another student of Otonokizaka? And she’d be a fellow skater, at that. They might have shared the same rink, practicing the same art, so they could have known each other, but what Dia had seen of this girl’s skill seemed a tad underwhelming considering the proximity with Ayase implied with “-senpai”...

“Are you okay? Hello? Ku-Kurosawa-san, please don’t pass out.”

“Hm?” Dia blinks back to reality, where the girl shakes her by the shoulder. “Pardon me, what was— Oh! You—”

“Yes,” Sakurauchi says. “I study here, but I don’t _personally_ know Ayase Eli. I only know what she’s doing right now.”

“I see,” Dia says, hoping her doubt isn’t too obvious on her face. “Very well.”

Sakurauchi nods, keeping her eyes on Dia. “Are you feeling okay? Your eyebrows were kind of knit earlier and you were staring at the floor — you looked almost in pain—”

A nearby door clicks open. Dia whips her head to it despite herself, and out walks _not_ Ayase Eli, but another woman with red hair — a brighter shade, but a much shorter cut that Sakurauchi’s. The newcomer looks at Dia with the scrutiny of someone only mildly interested. Dia can’t help but return the gesture, but not simply because the woman _is,_ admittedly, also attractive. Again, there’s a vague familiarity about her, as well…

“Kurosawa?” she says.

Sakurauchi makes a shocked noise. “M-Maki-senpai!” _Maki?_

Dia nearly chokes on the gasp she lets out. Visions of gold medals and impeccable scores shoot through her mind. “Nishikino Maki!”

“Yeah?” Nishikino said. “Riko, why are you so on edge? And you,” she points at Dia, “what are _you_ doing here? Don’t tell me… Eli forgot?”

Dia feels her head lightening. Who _are_ these people? How are they all so familiar with each other? What happens at Otonokizaka for them to produce incredible skaters like these?”

_snap, snap, snap_

"Hey, Kurosawa. Kurosawa. Is she okay?"

"I don't know. This is the second time..."

"I-I'm fine!" Dia finally manages to say. Nishikino's hand hovers over her face, but lowers almost as soon as Dia identifies it. "It's just— Ayase-san isn't here?"

Nishikino nods. "Didn't send you a memo, huh?"

"If she did, I didn't receive it."

Nishikino sighs, and rubs the back of her neck. "Eli, come on..." She lazily paces to the side a few steps, humming lowly. "What to do..."

"Kurosawa-san mentioned she had her apartment arranged already," Sakurauchi says.

"Mm-hmm..." Nishikino keeps pacing. "What time is it? Hang on, I'll call Eli."

She steps back out the door she came from and remains outside for a few minutes. The sounds of conversation coming through it are muffled beyond Dia's comprehension, so she lets it be and diverts her attention back to her company in the meantime.

“So you don’t know Ayase Eli personally,” she says, “but you know Nishikino Maki, her rival and rinkmate, as your ‘senpai.’”

The side of Sakurauchi’s lip quirks up and she shrugs her shoulders, all in a quite nervous, bashful manner. “I have to admit, I _do_ know some people in the skating business,” she says, “but I’d rather not go and make much of it, really. They’re amazing, after all, and next to them I’m just another skater. I’d hate to give people the wrong impression.”

Ah, that’s all it was. “I imagined it was something like that,” Dia says. “It must be difficult to come after a generation like theirs.”

Riko chuckles weakly at that. “Yeah. Kind of puts the pressure on, you know?”

Dia laughs good-naturedly as she tries to find something friendly and encouraging to say, but turns up short by the time Nishikino returns. The faintest, almost imaginary hint of a smile is on her face, despite how low set her brow is.

“We’ve figured something out. Kurosawa, listen." Nishikino walks over to the entrance of the rink. "What's going on right now is that there's a new skating rink in the city opening soon, owned by a friend of ours, and they're celebrating it with an ice show. Riko and I are part of it. We'll be pair skating a modified version of one of me and Eli's exhibition programs from a while back. Riko, can we show her?"

The frightened expression returns to Sakurauchi’s face. She _is_ rather on-edge. “Now? I’m not ready to skate the second half yet!”

“Then we won’t,” Nishikino says. “Just to show what we can do.”

“What for?” Dia asks.

“You’ll know later,” Nishikino says. “For now, just pay attention. Eli’s orders. Shall we, Riko?”

Though Sakurauchi is poor at hiding her reluctance, she nods and glides back to the ice with Nishikino following not far behind. Dia opts to watch somewhere reasonably close to the small speakers they’ve placed atop the rink wall, a short distance from the middle of the ice. It’s not long before Nishikino skates over to her.

“You into swing music?” she says as she slides to a stop.

“Admittedly, I’m not very familiar with it,” Dia says. “I dabble in very different genres when it comes to my skating…”

“Huh. This will be something new for you, then, I guess.” Nishikino glances across the length of the ice, where Sakurauchi runs through arm motions while skating wide circles. “Eli choreographed it about three years ago. The song is in English, so she took what liberty she could from our audience probably not making much sense of the words.”

Sakurauchi had stopped at some point, having given Nishikino a signal that she was ready. Nishikino nods to her, and skates away to her starting position, but not before giving Dia some parting words:

“Mind, this isn’t a program designed for competition. We’ll do what we can to get the story across, but watch closely for yourself.”

She and Sakurauchi begin at opposite sides of the rink. Dia pictures the white of exhibition spotlights trained on them, the darkness between separating them like seas between isles. The music begins with the soft, slow, but jaunty melody of a solo piano.

Sakurauchi moves first, skating with a leisurely slowness to the middle of the rink as her gaze wanders the empty air. Nishikino mimes just noticing her, and as the introductory melody quiets she skates over, making herself known to her partner and offering a courteous hand.

The song begins in earnest with the piano picking up and leading up to the entrance of a lively violin — no, two. Nishikino leads Sakurauchi across the ice by the hand before pulling her into a twirl and leading a spin together. They enter a brisk and sprightly step sequence in time with the music, at a point even running over the ice, before their hands join as if in a ballroom dance as they glide smooth arcs in perfect sync, face-to-face. A vocal part of the song begins, the rhythm backed by drum and guitar never letting up, and with every little swell of the song’s energy, the pair turns in time, together and around each other. There’s a lull between verses where Nishikino parts from her partner to spin without breaking their position.

In fact when the second verse starts, Nishikino’s hand has moved from Sakurauchi’s hand to her lower back, and they skate closer to each other than before, but they part again quickly, to add twists of the torso, playful kicks, and fast turns to their step sequence. Their rhythmic movements become sweeping as the next half of the vocals begins, and Nishikino twirls Sakurauchi again, and they spin around each other, with looks in their eyes like the other is the heart of something new and amazing. The picture becomes clear to Dia: their routine is all dynamism, every spin, turn, and step part of a well-woven, bewitching chaos.

It’s a quick series of these changes in position before they let go of each other entirely and enter a phase where the guitar is at the fore, and where they are each other's’ shadow, skating, spinning, and stepping in — nearly — perfect time with each other. They reunite. Nishikino smoothly lifts Sakurauchi by the waist to swing her up and bring them both into a spin. When Sakurauchi returns to the ice, they skate a waving figure like the pull of waves, toward, away, and toward each other.

A jump as the focus shifts to the violin leaves Sakurauchi behind just a beat before they enter a combination spin, and when the time comes for the piano’s turn, quiet but energetic all the same, they slow to a stop, and the performance ends.

It’s sort of by reflex that Dia begins applauding their incomplete program, as her mind is still on their skate, rewinding, looking closer into her memory. Though she registers that it was just an exhibition, the elements come to her in a list anyway. Kerrigan spiral, pair sit spin, a span of time between the next major element, a rotational lift, a side-by-side toe loop —

“What do you think?”

Nishikino had skated up to Dia without her noticing. Dia smiles and nods to her. “It was excellent, Nishikino-san!” Dia says. “Your presentation was very strong, and your spins were cleanly executed and well-synchronized. Thank you for allowing me to watch.”

A stifled half-smile cracks on Nishikino’s face. Behind her, again like a shadow, Sakurauchi skates to them, and again, her eyes, ever cautious, are on Dia. What is she thinking?

“The performance wasn’t just for your viewing pleasure, you know,” Nishikino says as she steps off the ice and puts her blade guards on her skates. “Tell me, how do you see it?”

“Pardon?”

Nishikino shrugs, and when she gets back up she makes a sweeping gesture toward the ice. “Interpret the performance. Who were we then? What were we doing? What was it about, at least until the end?”

Dia thinks back. The pieces of memory she looks for are a little less clear than what she’d recalled earlier, and she can’t feel sure about any of it. There is one aspect of it all that binds the images together, though. The looks in their eyes and the way they held each other stick out to her like embers in coal.

There is one answer that seemed safe enough. “Love?” Dia says.

An expectant look is in Nishikino’s eye. “Love… and?”

Dia scrambles for an answer. “Love and… life?” Far too broad an answer for her lofty standards, Dia thinks at herself.

But Nishikino nods, if a bit noncommittally. “It’s _new_ love, in a new place,” she says. “Two people meeting and seeing the best in the world around them together, and, if we can skate it, one another. That’s the first half of the picture Eli wanted to convey when she choreographed it.”

“Amazing,” Dia says, her hands clasping together. “Ayase-san’s talents are truly beyond me. I wasn’t able to glimpse that from the program.”

“Er, ah, well, no, I mean…” Nishikino fumbles for some reason, briefly rubbing her neck. “Well, Eli aside, do you get it now? The meaning behind it.”

“Yes. You explained it well, Nishikino-san.”

“Good, thanks. Can you skate it?”

Dia’s eyebrows wrinkle. “Excuse me?”

“Maki-senpai?” Sakurauchi says. “Do you have some sort of new plan? For me or Kurosawa-san?”

“Eli’s idea,” Nishikino answers coolly. “She didn’t want to just send Kurosawa back and make her wait while she was gone, so we figured I should handle her coaching for a bit in Eli’s stead. Riko, you’ll get something out of this, too. Eli thinks you guys would make a good match if you put the work into it.”

“And Ayase-san said it was fine even if you weren’t a coach?” Dia asks.

“It won’t be forever, and, well, I’m better than nothing.” Maki’s lips curl a bit. “ _Much_ better, frankly.”

There was little Dia could say to the contrary. Nishikino Maki was Eli's only equal in Japan — possibly even better than her, especially in the eyes of the judging panel. Dia had watched her on television and online a few times over her career, all to learn. Her programs didn't enrapture Dia like Eli's did, but her technique was unrivaled. She took point leads and caught eyes in her early regional events with jumps, spins, and spirals that were beyond the level of her competition, and now the leading opinion was that she was a surefire shot at the next Winter Olympics should she decide to compete for it.

One’s skating skill didn’t always translate into coaching skill, but the opportunity just to learn alongside Nishikino Maki and see how she practiced in person was just impossible for Dia to resist.

But no, she _wouldn’t_ be swayed by emotion. Not so strongly, not so soon.

“There are still things I don’t know,” she says. “When is the date of the ice show? And will exhibitional pair skating practice really benefit _me,_ a largely competitive singles skater?”

“Oh, firstly,” Nishikino says. “The show’s in about a month, and at your level you should be able to learn the program, polish it, and practice on your own in the meantime comfortably well. As for what good this pair skate will do you… hmm, if you’re not too attracted to getting better with the artsy side of choreo...”

There’s a look of scheming she gives Sakurauchi, and then Dia herself.

“Riko, are you opposed to the idea?” Nishikino asks. “Practicing with Kurosawa, I mean?”

Now Dia gets the idea that Sakurauchi’s face is very honest, because she can see a palette of emotions in equal parts in the bright amber of her eyes. They widen in surprise at being put on the spot suddenly, and her eyelids fall a bit as she looks contemplatively over Dia’s form, and then, perhaps shyly, she stops before she looks too long, pulling her gaze away before it can meet Dia’s own.

“I’m… not particularly opposed,” Sakurauchi says. “Eli-senpai has a sort of knack for these kinds of judgements, after all, and Kurosawa san—” Dia barely catches Sakurauchi’s glance at her “—seems nice enough. I can see potential between us, too.”

“Great!” Nishikino says with an ominous sliver of chipperness. “Then, would it be all right with you if she princess-carried you for a bit?”

Dia nearly chokes. “ _Excuse_ me?” She happens to glance at Sakurauchi, whose cheeks have taken on a hint of color. Which Dia can understand completely.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sakurauchi bravely manages to say, anyway, even if her voice breaks.

“But what for?” Dia says for herself as much as her prospective partner. “There’s no such lift in the program—”

“Not in the first half,” Nishikino says. “And, actually, not quite in the second half either. But you won’t be able to practice lifts with Riko properly if you can’t lift her for any longer than five seconds. Besides this...” Nishikino’s eyebrows wrinkle in thought. “...It’ll give you two a running start building chemistry!”

 _To build chemistry,_ Dia thinks. The demands of pair skating are alien indeed. _Will it really?_

Dia and Sakurauchi meet eyes and glance away simultaneously, and the moment escapes neither of them.

_Incredible._

“Come on,” Nishikino says, egging them on. “Just thirty seconds ought to be enough.”

 _Thirty seconds is_ quite _a bit of time to hold someone_. “Well…”

Sakurauchi is already putting blade guards over her skates to stand on the same dry floor as Dia, who notes that the other stands eye-to-eye to her with skates on. “Shall we?” she says, looking at Dia with a resolution that contrasts with the light blush on her cheeks.

“...Very well.”

She finds the back of Sakurauchi’s knees and a good spot on her upper back to support her with, but Riko proves surprisingly heavy despite how lean she appears — her legs especially. The arm she has supporting them starts to tire only a few seconds in.

And it isn't much longer before both her biceps begin trembling.

Sakurauchi notices immediately, the beginnings of distress setting on her features. After seeing Dia’s tight expression and glancing rather unsubtly at Nishikino, Sakurauchi slowly and unsurely loops an arm behind Dia’s neck, and then the next.

“Riko,” Nishikino says, as they both feared she would, as she approaches the pair. “No cheating.”

“I don’t think she should strain herself,” Sakurauchi says, (thankfully) keeping her arms looped around Dia’s neck.

“Kurosawa, just put her down if you can’t make the thirty seconds,” Nishikino says.

“I can,” Dia says, voice strangled with effort. She tries to ignore the pressure building in her head, and how her arms are starting to lower.

Sakurauchi looks tense, too, hanging on Dia’s neck like a lifeline. “D-Don’t just let me fall, now. Or burst a blood vessel.”

“I won’t— I—”

Dia’s arms give way. A jolt of panic courses through her, but the _thud_ of a body hitting the ground never comes.

When her strain-blurred vision clears, she sees Sakurauchi in _Nishikino’s_ arms instead.

“Well you made it,” Nishikino says flatly. “Just barely, but it was thirty seconds.”

“I— I’m sorry, Sakurauchi-san,” Dia says between breaths. “I didn’t—”

“No, it’s fine!” Sakurauchi says as she’s lowered back on solid ground, quickly standing over Dia’s tired, hunched form. “More importantly, are your arms all right?”

Dia can’t answer before Nishikino speaks up. “Kurosawa, you need to work those out,” she says. “During a jump, the upward swing of a skater’s arm helps with gaining jump height, and keeping them in place against outward rotational force helps stabilize you in your midair spins. Stronger arms means more power and more stability.”

Dia gathers her breath with a final, heavy heave, and straightens up. “Was the princess-carry really necessary to tell me that?”

“You asked me what you had to gain from pair skate practice as a singles skater, didn’t you?” Nishikino says. “There’s an example with a hands-on demonstration. And I have even more in mind from what Eli’s observed of you.”

Any retorts Dia might have had fizzle out at the mention of Ayase’s name. This is her idea, and there isn’t a shadow of a doubt that Dia trusts her judgement absolutely. There is a plan for her, and she has faith in it.

“Point taken,” Dia concedes.

“Well then? Are you in?”

“I’m certain my manager will have no problem with this change of plans,” Dia says, “and Sakurachi-san, as well, takes no issue, so… yes, I agree.”

Nishikino claps her hands once, having concluded a fruitful discussion. “Nice. I’ll update Eli.”

“And I’ll tell the school coaches about Kurosawa-san,” Sakurauchi says.

“Good call,” Nishikino says. “Kurosawa, you’re free to go. Work your arms out, but wait until the soreness is gone before you get too serious.”

“Excuse me?” Difficult to accept her only training today would be a single, prolonged princess-carry.

“Just see me again tomorrow, same time,” Nishikino says. “I’ll run you through your part so Riko doesn't need to wait for you to catch up.”

That was… perfectly reasonable. Dia relents. “I understand. Thank you for today.”

“Welcome,” Nishikino says. “Tell me when your manager agrees later, all right?”

Dia gives a word of affirmation, says her goodbyes to the pair, and begins on the labyrinthian path back to her apartment.

 

* * *

 

She arrives an hour later, collapsing on her bed promptly upon entry. Dull, dark, sunset orange seeps in through the gaps in the blinds of her window, which is about the right lighting for the break of a midsummer evening.

Dia rolls onto her back and holds a hand on her forehead, allowing herself a long, tired sigh. Her situation was an entirely different picture from what she had in mind stepping on the trains that very morning. Meeting another one of Japan’s skating icons, being partnered with someone who knew people Dia never thought she’d ever meet, and just having her plans flipped on their heads.

Unimaginable. She’d never even have been able to dream of it.

But it’s reality that Sakurauchi is planned to be her skate partner for a month. If Dia had been honest with her deepest, darkest, truest self, she’d have gone forward operating on the impression that her partner actually had quite a bit more to learn than she did. Recalling that earlier skate, she thinks of Sakurauchi’s dodgy footwork, off-timed jumps and shaky landings. Nishikino’s skating was much cleaner, and Dia dared to think that even she herself could have done better in Sakurauchi’s place.

Worry, a cold, suffocating fog, starts setting in. What if, even with Nishikino and Ayase’s guidance, Dia can’t improve fast enough with having to wait for Sakurauchi?

Time was running out. October and the block championships were just around the corner. Dia had to make nationals again at _least._ If she doesn’t make this year…

She cuts off that train of thought and pulls out her phone. Focus on moving forward. The time and date flash on her lock screen.

6:30pm. Friday, August 26, 2016.

One month. One month where she only needs to relinquish so much control.

A reminder pops up below the clock, one that she'd typed in while sitting and collecting herself in the middle of her walk back home: _“Call Mari about plan changes.”_

Responsible as she is, Dia sits up and dial’s Mari’s number right away.

On the other end of the line, Mari’s sunny voice blasts into Dia’s eardrums.

 _“Dia!”_ she says without even a ‘hello.’ _“Having a nice time in Tokyo? Was Ayase-sama-sensei every bit as gorgeous as you thought?”_

“Mari,” Dia says with a growl. “Settle down, please? There’s been a change.”

_“Oh?”_

Dia quickly and succinctly gets Mari up to speed, and Mari keeps up with thankfully little more fuss than her typical "wow"s and "nice"s. As Dia predicted, she happily adapts to the change.

 _“Lucky girl, Dia!”_ she says once everything is summed up. _“I mean it’s a shame that Ayase-san couldn’t make it, but it was so nice of Nishikino-san to fill in for her! I’ll talk to her about all the, ahem, pecuniary_ _matters later on.”_

“Stop that,” Dia says. “They _are pecuniary_  matters and there isn’t any hidden entendre in the phrase or context to warrant that kind of emphasis.”

 _“Well, hey, you’re the one who’s got any entendre on the mind,”_ Mari says. _“I was just clearing my throat.”_

Dia knows that Mari is a liar sometimes, and she’s learned long ago to how to handle the situation when she is. “Nishikino-san never actually did give any specifics about how or if she’d want to be paid, come to think of it.”

 _“You always gotta assume they do, though,”_ Mari says. _“Think I should get in touch with_ Nishikino-san’s _manager, too? This is a pretty weird situation, after all.”_

“You have a better sense for those types of things than I do,” Dia says. “If you need me for any of the arrangements, don’t hesitate to call.”

 _“That goes without saying for my dependable Dia,”_ Mari says. _“And I might have to check in with your new partner’s folks too, just to be safe. Sakurauchi Riko-chan, right?”_ Mari giggles. _“You’ve really gotten yourself on an_ All Stars’ _stage, huh, Dia? Lucky, Lucky.”_

“Pardon?” Dia says. “Why would you say that over Sakurauchi-san? Sure, she’s an Otonokizaka skater, and she’s Nishikino-san’s partner, but she doesn’t seem particularly noteworthy.”

Mari lets out a loud, drawn, _“Whaaat?!”_ that’s just a decibel away from a full bellow. _“Okay, the jig is up, buster_ — _who are you and what have you done with Dia?”_

“'Buster?' Mari, please, make some sense!”

 _“You’re the one not making sense,"_ Mari retorts. _“The Dia I know would never forget someone like Sakurauchi Riko.”_

Unbeknownst to Mari, Dia had already taken a seat on the desk bearing her laptop, on a frantic beeline straight to Google. “Just, just give me a minute, maybe I _have_ heard of her.” There’s the search bar. Dia types out Sakurauchi’s name faster than anything she’s ever typed with a single hand before, but Mari is easily faster.

 _“You know, Sakurauchi Riko, Tokyo’s little darling, the rising star of Japan?”_ she says. _“‘Fuyuzakura?’”_

No sooner does the words reach Dia’s ears than she hits the enter key. At once, the first results come up onscreen, a reflection of what memories flash through Dia’s mind.

_Sakurauchi Riko, a figure skater from Akihabara, Tokyo, nicknamed “Fuyuzakura” for her prodigious skill and artistry. Began skating at the age of 4. Entered the Junior division at 13 and won 5 medals in international competition before debuting in the Seniors division at 15._

_Placed 4th at the All-Japan Figure Skating Championships._

_Failed to make the podium at nationals during the 2015-2016 competitive season._

_Entered a hiatus for the 2016-2017 season..._

Dia pictures Sakurauchi’s skating for a third time that day, replaying it over and over, trying to find the prodigy in those spins and step sequences. Trying to prove to herself what seemed like the impossible.

But she can’t find anything.

It was just the girl she met at the rink. Just her and her clumsy footwork and subpar jumps.

She doesn’t know what to make of it.

Mari snaps her out of her thought. _“Dia?”_ she says. _“Still there? We’re going way over three minutes.”_

“Still here,” Dia says. “Yes, I know. Fuyuzakura. That’s her.”

 _“You don’t sound very happy about it,”_ Mari says, mellowed out. _"I was kind of expecting you to go into hysterics about being able to work so closely with yet another big name in skating. Something wrong?”_

“Nothing’s wrong,” Dia says. “I guess I’m just… confused?”

_“What?”_

“No, never mind. I just have a few things to think about.”

 _“Oh?”_ Mari pauses on the other line. Dia half-expects some kind of joke to follow, maybe something about Dia having trouble talking to pretty girls like Sakurauchi, but instead Mari just says, _“Well, all right, then. Good luck with that. We all good?”_

Dia answers a half-second late, caught off-guard by Mari’s unusual straightforwardness. “Uh, yes. I’ve updated you now, so you know what to do.”

 _“Roger that,”_ Mari says. _“Sorry again that I couldn’t come with, by the way.”_

“It’s fine,” Dia says. “You have more work to do than I have, after all.”

 _“Oh, you know it,”_ Mari says with a chuckle. _“I’ll try to drop by as soon as I’m free enough, though!”_

“Rest assured, I am on guard at all times,” Dia says.

Mari laughs, but an unidentifiable noise on her side of the call interrupts her. _“Oh, another call? ...Yohane-chan? But it’s not even seven...”_

Dia tenses up. “Did you say, ‘Yohane-chan?’”

 _“Don’t even worry about it,”_ Mari says. _“Gotta go, Dia-chan! Be a good girl while I’m away.”_

“Wait, Mari—”

But of course, Mari hangs up.

Dia stares at the screen of her phone, reminding herself that it’s probably pointless to try calling her again, before placing it on the table and reclining on a chair.

She realizes she never brought up the possibility of cancelling the arrangement while they were on the phone. It’s a matter of course, Dia figures. After all, she commits to what she says she commits to.

But she can’t bring herself to stop thinking about Sakurauchi.

Dia doesn’t want to think like some of the more callous sports journalists — the ones who write that Sakurauchi’s ephemeral success only perfectly matches the transience of the winter blossom she’s titled after. She hated them, but seeing Sakurauchi skate in person that afternoon, she can’t help but think they might have been right.

During that skate, not even a semblance of Fuyuzakura remained.

Sakurauchi isn’t just a skater trailing a bit behind Dia anymore. She’s a former genius in a downward spiral, on the verge of collapse, putting Dia’s future at risk.

Too great a risk.

She wishes she had the foresight to get Nishikino’s number before leaving. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy.

But Ayase’s number was there. She could ask her, and tell her she was backing out of the idea while she was at it. It would be a blow to her pride, but so be it, if that was what it took to save herself from becoming collateral damage.

Before she can even navigate to her contacts list, she has to go through her lock screen, where she sees an image of a seventeen year-old Ayase herself, in the costume for her best program, at the last height of her competitive career.

Her long-familiar story surfaces in Dia's mind. Ayase Eli had only a single gold medal to her name before disappearing from competition altogether. She’d had to endure a few harsh opinions on her own, but her exit was ever as elegant as the programs she skated. There was about her, something special, seemingly invisible to Dia, that turned what would have been a loss for anyone else into a humble departure.

Dia doesn’t know where she stands in Ayase’s scheme, but it is true that there are things she might see in Sakurauchi that Dia can’t and could never.

The hand holding her phone drops to Dia’s side as she decides against calling Ayase. There’s been nothing thus far to make her faith in her idol waver.

And it isn’t as though she’s so weak she can’t get through this on her own merits. Whatever would happen, Dia would always be her own master.

The last rays of sunlight are gone, now. Leaning into the backrest, Dia stares upward, grimly, into the dark.

She stares, and makes things simple.

She just has to resolve not to get swept away.

To keep her distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok first chapter, 6000 words but still kind of slow, but i promise things will shake up later on. in less words. uh
> 
> this statement effective forever: feedback is much appreciated! it keeps me going and helps me figure things out! but again, thank you for giving this a chance, hope you'll stick around


End file.
